My Fair Pataki
by stagetrinity
Summary: Arnold volunteers to Stage Manager the school play "My Fair Lady" in order to get an extra activity for college apps. However, working under Helga as acting director isn't the best job one could ask for. But Arnold has an escape - his online IM partner. But when he discovers the blogs owner, adjusting to what he sees against what he reads can be hard. Which version to believe?
1. Meet Eliza

Hi guys ! I've been gone a while...I had this random idea at work the other day, and I do have mostly a full story fleshed out this time (for real...there will be multiple chapters.) Now, I want to try and run this with a companion blog, as one of the plot points is the blog Arnold follows. If you'd like to be able to interact with the story in a way that gets character interaction, feel free to use the blog along while reading. I'm excited to see how it turns out. So check the FAQ out on that and have fun!

(so hells-and-bells is the tumblr user to look for)

I don't own these characters, tumblr, or "My Fair Lady."

* * *

"I recommend an elective. Colleges like to see that you are interested in extracurricular activities. Any sort of club you might be interested in?"

I blinked, scanning the list that Mrs. Anderson had placed on the desk in front of me. I wasn't really interested in extracurricular activities to be honest, but with senior year rolling in strong, it had finally occurred to me that maybe I should boost my chances of college acceptance by delving into one of the groups on campus. Isn't that what they always said? Colleges like extracurricular activities, of which I currently had an outstanding zero of.

Of course senior year was probably the worst year to decide to do this….all my classmates had settled in and found their niche spots and I'd just be crawling in and hanging out in the shadows. I should have started caring about my college goals earlier, but with work and keeping up the boarding house, I just hadn't. I still had no idea what I even wanted to do with my life yet!

"How about drama club? Now don't look like that," she quickly explained, and I tried to pull my eyebrows down from the space they were floating in. "They're just starting work on the semester musical, and they're actually in need of a Stage Manager. Melissa had to drop out due to…unforeseen circumstances. Stage Managing involves leadership responsibilities, which would be wonderful to list. Colleges like leaders."

* * *

"…and that's how I found myself down here, offering myself up as Stage Manager," I finished lamely, releasing all the pent up breath I had been holding. Mr. Simmons smiled up at me warmly, making me wonder why I'd ever been nervous in the first place. He'd moved up into high school last year, and had fit in wonderfully with the literature and drama students – most of which he'd watched grow in elementary school.

"Well of course, Arnold!" he gushed. "What with Melissa having to drop out so soon and this show being a particularly large cast and heavy with set, I just know you'll be able to keep this group on track." I grinned, feeling a weight life. Maybe this wouldn't be so bad!

"But as I'm sure they told you, it's tradition to let one of my senior students act as my Director while I offer input and help where needed. So you'll be working very closely with Helga-"

My stomach dropped immediately. I could see Mr. Simmons's mouth moving as he gestured to different students milling around the theatre, but nothing was clicking with me. I'd be working with Helga. Miss Punch-you-for –so-much-as-walking-next-to-her. Miss Don't-even-so-much-as-breathe-on-me. It was going to be a long fourteen weeks…

"..and if you'll just go through the door over there, you can find Helga backstage. She's with the rest of stage crew, and auditions will be in two weeks. In the meantime, we all need to focus on getting set together along with costumes and all that. Won't it be fun?"

He looked so excited I couldn't help by force myself to smile. "Sounds….great. Just great. Can't wait."

I shrugged my backpack back up onto my arm from where it had started to creep down into the crook of my elbow. Okay, so maybe she wouldn't be that bad. Maybe this would go smoothly. I tugged at the fraying ends of my shirt, walking in the direction Mr. Simmons's had directed. I could hear her grating voice before I even pushed the door open.

"We're doing _"My Fair Lady,_" get it? It's been decided and I don't care if you think it's too old fashioned. I happen to think it's awesome!" she was explaining, proudly tossing her head back as she brought her hand to her chest. She'd always had a flair for dramatics ever since she'd done "_Annie_" back in middle school. I sighed, trying to creep forward without drawing a whole bunch of attention to myself.

"Question!" I could see Sheena raising her hand from her position in the middle of the semi-circle. "Who's going to replace Melissa?"

"I'm not sure who is gonna replace her, but we'll worry more about that-"

"Actually, that would be me," I piped up, tiptoeing out from behind Helga. I gave a small wave to the group, and I could practically feel Helga's shocked gaze boring a hole in my side. Just keep smiling, I reminded myself.

"You?" She barked out a laugh, tossing a blond pigtail over her shoulder as she looked me over. "Seriously football head, you wander into the wrong room?"

"Nope," I quipped, trying to sound more chipper and less like the bearer of bad news. "I've already confirmed with Mr. Simmons. I'm a natural leader and I'm great with construction," I explained, using the same speech I'd rehearsed earlier. "I think I could be really helpful to you guys and I want this to be the best show it can be."

I watched as many of the skeptical faces I didn't know shifted into ones of begrudging acceptance. Those I did know, like Sheena and Eugene, where quick to give me thumbs up and words of encouragement.

"You'll do wonderful," Eugene gushed, grinning ecstatically. "You've always been so good with this sort of thing."

"Yeah yeah, Arnoldo here is just mister freaking perfect sunshine. Can we get back to work?" Helga snapped, waving the clipboard she was holding. She shot a dark look at Eugene, effectively quieting him.

"Should...I sit down? Okay, I'll just – excuse me- here is fine," I muttered, squeezing into a vacant seat in the semi-circle between Sheena and a small green eyed girl with curly brown hair. She gave me a nervous smile, which I returned.

"Our budget really isn't that wonderful at the moment, so we need to brainstorm a few fundraising ideas to roll out over the next month. We want to start actually getting set up as soon as possible, and once we cast we need to know what we have available for costuming. Who's got suggestions?"

"Bake sale!" "Can we do shirts?" "How about a pie fundraiser?"

The shouting stopped as everyone turned to face the young girl next to me. She shrugged. "You know, where you set a certain limit and if you raise enough you get to pie someone in the face?"

"I think we'll stick to the bake sale, but we'll keep that in mind, thanks Shelley." Helga's tone was acidic as she scribbled down notes. "Everyone has their respective tasks assigned, so we'll meet back on Wednesday and have Mr. Simmons give final approval before we get started. Later guys."

Everyone nodded, and a dull chatter erupted as everyone gathered their materials and exited the room, talking in excited tones about the upcoming weeks. I shifted uncomfortably in my chair, watching as Helga began to put away chairs. "Here, let me help you," I offered, quickly gathering up the remaining folding chairs and stashing them against the wall where others were resting.

"What're you even doing here?"

"Helping put up chairs?" I offered, confused. I bit back a yelp as I wedged my finger between two chairs.

"No, in drama club. You've never showed any interest whatsoever –"

"Well there was that time in fourth grade-"

"Oh please, Mr. Simmons begged you. Did he beg you this time too? I could have handled it on my own," she banged her chairs down against the wall before turning to study my face. I instinctively scratched my nose and dropped my gaze to the floor.

"No, and I'm sure you would have been just fine. I just dropped by to see our adviser and asked about extracurricular activities. She suggested drama might be a good fit and that you guys were short a stage manager. So I thought I might be useful."

There was silence as we both gathered out respective bags, not making eye contact. I wasn't sure if I was supposed to say anything else, and I was surprised as she grabbed my hand and scribbled a string of numbers down.

"I'm directing, which means you're pretty much my bitchboy. Shoot me a text, and I'll add you to my text group for stage crew." I nodded meekly, and she gave me a two figure salute before clicking off the lights and leaving me in the dark.

* * *

"Drama? Seriously?" I rolled my eyes as Gerald gave me an appalled look.

"Seriously." I shrugged, clicking off the Skype screen and pulling up my tumblr screen. "Actually to say Stage Manager on an application sounds better than just saying random drama nobody," I countered.

"Well what do you even get to do? When's practice?"

"Apparently it's defined as 'bitchboy', but I don't know. It's Monday, Wednesday , Friday. 4-6." I pulled up another screen, typing 'stage manager' into the search bar. "Stage management is the practice of organizing and coordinating a theatrical production. It encompasses a variety of activities, including organizing the production and coordinating communications between various personnel, example between director and backstage crew, or actors and production management," I read aloud.

"So yeah, Helga's bitchboy."

I groaned. "Pretty much. Maybe she's gotten better since freshman year."

"Or maybe she got worse," he offered, grinning.

I frowned. "You're no help at all, did you know that?"

He continued to grin widely, and we settled into respective silence.

"Hey, I'm gonna go work on some of this stupid math. I'll hit you up after and we can get some donuts or something? I have to bribe myself.'"

"Sure thing," I laughed, and he exited off Skype. I clicked back to the tumblr tab and scrolled down to see if 'hells-and-bells' had updated recently. 'hells-and-bells' was a rather popular blogger who posted lots of personal poetry as well as musings from her high school. She was pretty funny, and we'd actually began to IM regularly on yahoo after I'd finally mustered up the courage to message her a few months back. I sort of had developed a tiny crush on her- well, what I knew of her- and I had a somewhat guilty pleasure of blog stalking.

It didn't take long for me to find where she had posted recently, and I grinned to see where she had tagged me. I quickly reblogged and added my own little clever note. I continued to scroll when a second later my messenger pinged.

_Hells-and-bells: Shouldn't you be studying?_

_Lordofthespies: Shouldn't you be less nosey?_

_Hells-and-bells: Touché. _

_Hells-and-bells: So what's the deal, pickle?_

_Lordofthespies: Besides your awful jokes, very little. Joined a club today!_

_Hells-and-bells: Where you not in one before?_

_Lordofthespies: No. Just hadn't really had time to yet. But new year, new stuff._

_Hells-and-bells: Very good philosophy, I have taught you well, oh young one. _

_Hells-and-bells: Hey….you're a guy, right?_

_Lordofthespies: As far as I'm aware._

_Hells-and-bells: Can I ask you a relationship question?_

I cringed. There was a guy I knew she liked. She posted about him sporadically, but from what I could tell he didn't even pay her any attention. But I was going to be a good friend, and it wasn't like we'd ever become anything. I didn't even know her real name or where she lived. So I took a deep breath and sent back, 'Fire away.'

_Hells-and-bells: So that guy I sort of kinda maybe have a thing for is working with me now. _

_Lordofthespies: Oh, really? And?_

_Hells-and-bells: I don't think he really wants to work with me…which I can't blame him. But close proximity for weeks on end…Should I get my hopes up?_

_Lordofthespies: You're fabulous. He'd be crazy to not like you._

_Hells-and-bells: ….if you weren't just a person from the internet, this is where I'd hug you._

"If only," I sighed, signing off as I trudged off to do my own homework. If only.


	2. Set for Scene One

Finding time to post is hard, and I'm sorry I'm so out of practice. I'm trying to keep this from feeling stiff, and I want to get my fluid feel back. Anywho, sorry for the shortness...I decided to move a part to the beginning of the next chapter. Thanks for reading, and feel free to check on the tumblr page if you like.

* * *

"You'll be in charge of making sure stage crew stays on task. You have to relay messages and make sure there is no miscommunication on what needs to be done. Always be on time, and being early is always preferred. Keep on track of who is here and when someone can't make it. Make sure everything goes super smoothly," Helga continued, ticking of each item on her fingers while simultaneously trying to devour what was left of a small bag of beef jerky she had produced before beginning her list. I just nodded and tried to ignore how hungry I was, hastily jotting down notes as fast as I could. There was a whole lot of stuff to get up with. My head was already spinning from all the information, and it was only my second rehearsal.

"Okay, got it," I responded, adding a final defiant period to the end of the long list. "I'll do my best!" As I ran my eyes over the list once more, I felt a small tangle of nervousness in the pit of my stomach. It wasn't like I was capable of this or anything. After all, I had been student president – in 6th grade. I was good at keeping people on task.

"You had better. I mean, this show has got to run smoothly," she reiterated as she flipped through the giant binder balanced in her lap, occasionally jotting down notes in the margins. Her ability to multi-task was something to behold, seriously. I was having trouble just making sure my writing was legible as I tried to keep up. She didn't say anything else, so I tried to assume a relaxed position in the folding chair I was perched on. My legs were too long to sit comfortable in the metal contraption, but I found that I stretched them out in front of me as I slumped down, it wasn't as bad. Drumming my fingers on my pants leg, I peered over again to look at her jotting notes. She seemed to have completely forgotten I was even here. Which didn't matter much to me at the moment, as we didn't officially start our meeting for another ten minutes and the rest of crew hadn't even shown up yet. Well, okay, so Eugene had – but he was practicing a few dance steps out on stage for audition and had forbidden me to watch. Something about unfair bias when I came time to audition. I had asked him why he was on stage crew if he planned to audition, and he'd just given me a shrug and a wide smile, saying, "It's always nice to have a back-up. I'd love to be in the show, but in case someone comes along and has a better audition, I can still be involved." I had to admit, I admired his dedication and outlook on the situation.

I fished my battered phone from my pocket to distract me from the slow gnawing in my stomach, brushing some lint from the cracked screen and opening up my tumblr tab to do my daily update stalking. I brightened as I spotted a tiny blurb from hells-and-bells, and began to scan eagerly.

"What're you so intent on over there?" I jumped, my fingers fumbling to keep a hold on the phone yet still shield it as Helga leaned over with a curious look on her face. "Are you blogging? You have a blog? Let me see!" She reached across my lap, and I instinctively jerked the phone away from her wriggling fingers. I could feel the heat in my ears as she grinned. "Aww, little Arnoldo afraid I might see him blog? What, do you post porn?"

"No!" I cried incredulously, faking calmness as I slid the phone back into my pocket. "I just like to read other people's post. I don't really…post much."

"Wat's your url?"

I blanched, shaking my head. I didn't want her to know my url. She didn't need more material to harass me with. "Um, oh hey look, Sheena!" I blurted, waving enthusiastically as she and a few others began to fill into the room and migrated to their seats. "Whoa, hey, look at that! It's time to start!"

I breathed a sigh of relief as Helga switched into business mode, her focus now shifted elsewhere. I was going to have to be a bit more careful. I closed the browser and tucked the phone back into my back pocket. '_Alright, might as well get this over with'_ I sighed, setting out more chairs as people filed in.

* * *

A couple of hours later and I was eagerly perched in a booth at "Henry's Hamburger House" , which was really no more than a tiny shoebox of a place that specialized in cheap hamburgers that I would easily sell my left kidney for. They were really that delicious. I slid down in my booth, propping my legs up on the seat and shrugging out of my plaid over shirt, feeling the sweat starting to collect as the mixed heat from outside and the grill inside swirled around me. I pulled my phone back out and reopened my tab, and finished skimming her post from earlier. It wasn't anything, really. Just her excitement over some new projects coming up, but it made me feel good to know she was pleased. I started to send a message asking about her projects when I felt the table jostle aggressively. I instinctively reached out to right its wobbles, catching my breath as I saw Helga slide in across from me. Oh come on, we'd just spent the last two hours together. I just wanted to eat in peace and focus on anything other than that play right now.

"Fancy seeing you out here. I assumed you'd be out helping old ladies cross the road," she quipped, slipping one of the laminated menus from behind the napkin holder. "A bit hot for you?"Her eyes skimmed over my arms. I felt heat in my face as I jerked my over shirt back on, the bagginess like a security blanket against my lankiness.

"What brings you here? I figured you'd be still at the school?" Or drowning kittens. I rolled my eyes up to scan anywhere but her, taking a sip of my coke.

"I'm here for food. I'm starved. The beef jerky was not enough, and I figured I could spare a few extra bucks for my health." She grinned at her halfway joke as she gestured to the waitress to come over.

"Same. I missed lunch to work on some extra credit," I explained, trying to shrug nonchalantly. I was actually not doing so hot in my AP Literature course – I'm not so good wit analyzing poetry. Go figure.

"You? Extra credit? Well you are Mr. Teacher's Pet."

"I'm not a teacher's pet!"

She snorted as she ordered a coke of her own. "Sure you're not. Teacher's pet."

I pressed my lips together, trying to suppress my anger. She could have eaten anywhere else. Just my luck she picked here. Luckily my food arrived and I was glad for the distraction from food.

"So how's it going for you on the romance department?" she asked casually, chewing on her fingernail as she directed her attention out the window.

I almost choked, and I had to spend a brief moment wheezing before I could squeeze out an "Excuse me?"

"You know, the ladies. Who is catching you fancy? What's the 411?"

"Are you being serious?" I asked before taking a gulp of coke. She had to be joking. We weren't really even friends – this wasn't something I really felt discussing with her. Saying you're in an online relationship that's not really a relationship doesn't make a regular friend clap with joy; it certainly wouldn't benefit to tell that to someone you don't really spend time with.

She looked a little offended at my tone, but shrugged. "Sure, why not? Isn't that what teens talk about? Who they're getting with?"

"Is that what you and Phoebe talk about?" I blurted. I took a large bite to keep me from saying anything that might sound stupid.

Helga looked thoughtful, twisting some of her hair on her finger. "Not really. I'm not with anybody." I had to keep myself from muttering 'big shocker'. "She's not really with anyone either, what with all her dual enrollment and other AP courses… So naah, not really. Not so much anymore."

"So why would you ask me?" I tried to ask without seeming rude.

She shrugged. "So I'm just taking this as you're a single man on the prowl," she responded with a laugh. She moved her arms as her food was slid onto the table.

"There's just this girl I sort of have a thing for," I word vomited, and she peered at me with a curious look. "Well I mean, it's not like it would ever work out. It's just –I…I gotta go," I muttered, cramming the last of my burger into my mouth and jumping up. I fumbled my backpack on, trying to avoid making eye contact as I passed a bill to the cashier. I told her to keep the change, eager to leave.

I sighed as I stepped outside, grateful for the breeze. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath before setting off back to the boarding house. Why did she have to come off as so aggressive? She left me nervous and frazzled, usually, from her sheer force of nature. Someone should train her in the art or womanhood. I laughed at my own joke as I realized how much Helga did remind me of Eliza Doolittle, with her loud voice and strong will. I could definitely see it. I shook my head, turning the corner and popping in my headphones. Might as well get acquainted with the soundtrack now.

Lordofthespies: _I'm not really sure what you're getting at?_

Hells-and-bells: _I suck at flirting. I cannot do it – I can write story upon story with romantic scenes. I can writ cute quips, eyelash flutters… moments when they meet and hang out effortlessly. But I cannot…for the life of me… do it in real life._

Lordofthespies: _Bad day?_

Hells-and-bells: _I feel like how the ugly stepsisters must have felt in Cinderella. _


	3. aww, hells

This one was fun to write,and sorry it took so long. Anyway, thanks for so many encouraging reviews and thanks for reading! You guys...are the best!

Hope you enjoy !

* * *

Scales. _Scales._ I have heard scales so many times in the last fifteen minutes that _I _could even start singing scales, and that's saying something. Do, a deer, a female deer.

"Have you got all the audition sheets?"

I shook my head to break from my thoughts, shuffling the large stack of sheets already in my lap. "I think so. Last check I had 65, and I've counted no more than that here – well, besides us and Mr. Simmons," I clarified, rifling through the stack of papers in my lap one more time. Mr. Simmons had warned me that audition day would be a long day, and as I surveyed all the faces sitting out in the seats, I had no doubt it was indeed going to be looooong. As we'd finished clearing off the stage and dusting off the piano last night, Helga had given me a brief rundown. It was going to be listening to everyone sing, having them read a bit, dance, and then we'd stay and confer over our favorites with Mr. Simmons. I'd be the one sending out the email to those who made the cut, and I'd be the one sending out the depressing email of "Guess who gets to be in chorus? You, you lucky dog, you."

"Not bad," she mused, leaning to peer out around the curtain as I had to size up the crowd. "We should be able to have a nice group to pick from. Awesome."

I chuckled, shaking my head at her excitement. "Sure thing. So can we start this? It's almost 3:30 and I've got a feeling this is going to take a little bit of time."

"Oh. Right! Well go tell people to get seated while I go to our spots. Mush!" she instructed, giving me a swift push, which caused me to stumbled awkwardly onto the stage. I yelped as I tried to catch my balance, barely managing to get myself upright as I hit center stage. I smiled shakily, meeting all the expectant eyes that were boring into me. I blinked against the lights, bringing up a hand to shield my eyes for a moment.

"So….hey!" I greeted, shuffling the papers in my hands. "Welcome to auditions for _My Fair Lady._ We'll just being going through a series of….auditions? So when your name is called, just come forward and tell us what you're singing and…okay, let's get this started!" I quickly jumped down from the stage and took my seat next to Helga, who was shaking with laughter. I shot her a dark look before dumping the papers on the table in front of her. "You could have told me I was making the speech."

"Then it wouldn't have been as fun," she explained, picking up the sheet on the top of the stack. "Alright, let's start with…Ashley Schultz?"

I sighed, settling back down into my seat, clipboard poised. Might as well get comfortable….

Auditions dragged on for close to three hours, and I was relieved as Mr. Simmons gave the closing speech and waved everyone out the door with a, "And remember! There are no small parts, only small actors, and we'll find a special role for each and every special person we can!"

Helga snorted beside me, looking over to glance at my clipboard chart. I had to stop myself from sliding my hand over it to block her view, reminding myself we were supposed to be working as a team.

"So, I thought it went well! There are so many wonderful talents this year!" Mr. Simmons commented as he took a seat in a folding chair across the table from us.

"Yeah, yeah, whatever. So I'm thinking that we should go ahead and agree that-" she lifted up a page on her clipboard, "that no one was really up to par to be Eliza."

"Well what about Lila?" I asked, skimming my own notes. "Or Rhonda. Rhonda...Rhonda has the perfect attitude, really." Which was true; she was the queen of attitude and certainly was no exception during her audition.

Mr. Simmons nodded thoughtfully. "I think Rhonda would be a great choice."

Helga snorted as if she wanted to argue, but instead offered up, "Fine. Rhonda can be my Eliza if Eugene can be Henry."

I thought she must be kidding, but the look on her face was the opposite.

"Really?" I asked, somewhat surprised. Not the Eugene hadn't done awesome. All his work had paid off, and he'd manage to outgrow most of his clumsy attributes. He'd grown as well all had over the years; he was taller, hairier, and even slightly beefier. Mainly beefier due to his decision freshman use to use muscle strength as a way to offset his clumsiness –which, to be fair, was often caused by his weak limbs and lack of coordination. It had helped. But there were taller, hairier, beefier guys that had auditioned I was sure Helga would advocate for. "Sure. I'm all for Eugene. He works hard. I think he'll do great!"

Mr. Simmons nodded in agreement, and we continued down the list. Sheena, Nadine, Lila, Sid, and Stinky were among those on the list I knew best, and we agreed to send out the call-back information later that night. I wasn't sure what for since we were pretty positive who we wanted to do what, but I guess the fuzzy roles were really what we needed to nail down.

As I gathered up my bag and notebook off the floor, I was actually starting to feel excited over this whole thing. We'd drafted out the tentative set last week as well and- I don't know- it sort of felt nice to feel like my opinions actually meant something. I offered up opinions and ideas to people all the time, but it was very rarely people asked for them except as a last resort – which was a bit frustrating the older I got. I grinned to myself, helping Mr. Simmons clean up the remaining trash left behind as Helga went to go turn the lights out for the night. We bid out farewells and headed out to the rapidly darkening world outside. I adjusted my bag on my shoulder and pulled out my phone to scan to see if there were only calls from my grandparents for errands before I got home. There was nothing but a text from Gerald asking how things had gone, and I reminded myself to respond once I got home. I looked up, taking a deep breath before starting my walk home. My truck was out of commission with a dead battery I had yet to take care of, but I didn't mind walking when the weather was nice.

"What are you gaping at?" Helga asked offhandedly as she stepped out from the door, checking behind her to make sure it was firmly locked.

"Nothing. Just thinking."

"Don't hurt yourself," she said with a grin, pushing back her choppy bangs from her eyes. "Later." She gave a half way before starting off down the sidewalk, and I swear she was humming under her breath.

"You're not walking home alone are you?" I asked curiously, stumbling a bit as I caught up to her.

She looked at me in confusion, then looked around as if to prove a point. "Well, would you look at that. Yeah, It seems I was. What of it?"

"It's almost dark! Why don't I walk you?" I inquired, pushing some of the hair back from my face. I needed a haircut.

She looked at me curiously, then shrugged. "Whatever floats your boat, football head."

I grinned, having long since gotten over her choice of nicknames. "So… you and Eugene, huh?" I tried to sound offhanded, looking up at the sky. No point in trying to be nonchalant.

"What about Eugene and me?" Helga scoffed, rolling her eyes.

"Well you guys spend so much time together, and you were certainly adamant," I teased, yelping as she dealt a swift blow to my arm.

"Oh shut up! You know as well as I that he's been doing shows for years, ever since elementary school. He's really good, but no one was willing to give him a chance the past few years. I've watched him grow, and he works hard." She scuffed her foot on the sidewalk. "I don't know. I think he's deserved it, and it's his last year. I know he wants to do theatre, and I wanted to give him something to put on his audition forms. And he can do this!" She said the last part quietly, but fiercely, with a determined look. I felt that even if Eugene wasn't great to start, she wouldn't let him go onstage without being anything less than perfect. I smiled, chuckling.

"He'll do great. It was nice thing, giving him a chance. I'm sure he'll be awesome."

She grinned at me, rolling her eyes when it seemed like she was starting to care too much. "Yeah yeah, whatever. I can be nice."

"When it suits you."

"Some people just take it for granted," she retorted. "If I was nice all the time, like some people," she commented, pushing me in the arm, "then people wouldn't be appreciative when I am. I'm nice in secret."

"More flies with honey," I said wisely, glancing across the street as we scuttled across.

"You know that phrase is just from when Egyptians covered slaves in honey so they would attract the flies away from them. It was really a bitch move at heart," she laughed as we come to stop in front of her house. It was eerily quiet, and I watched her previously cheery demeanor deflate slightly. "Anyway, thanks for walking me home. I'm a big girl though; you don't have to worry about me. No one else does."

I opened my mouth to reply, but she had already closed the door behind her. I sighed, shaking my head as I headed back toward the boarding house. I remembered I had her number in my phone, and I quickly skimmed through to find the previous text she had sent about theatre duties. Our texts up until this point had just been purely show related, nothing friendly. I was almost hesitant to send anything, but I choked down my hesitation and sent a quick, "_Well, even if no one else worries, I do. How else am I supposed to know what to do for the show without your constant instructions?"_ I added the second line as a comedic buffer, unsure as to how she would take it. I counted to the three and hit send, shoving the phone in my pocket as though it had morphed into a poisonous creature. No need to see the answer immediately.

I made it back to the boarding house just as grandma was herding everyone out the kitchen. I gave a hasty apology about my lateness, but she shook her head and handed me a plate she had set aside and asked me to give Eleanor her regards as I headed up the stairs.

Who the heck was Eleanor?

I shook my head, pulling up my computer to do a bit of internet skimming before typing up the call-back email. I opened my messenger and was immediately greeted with an aggressive ping from internet ladyfriend….thing.

_Hells-and-bells: I have an emergency!_

_Lordofthespies: Should I call 911?_

_Hells-and-bells: No, a boy emergency._

_Lordofthespies: Ah_

_Hells-and-bells: All you have to say is 'ah?'_

_Lordofthespies: …Ah-hah?_

_Hells-and-bells: Whatever. I don't have to tell you._

_Lordofthespies: No, tell me! I wanna know._

(No, not really. I did not care about her other boy. Bahhumbug)

_Hells-and-bells: Okay, so, remember how I told you that we don't really talk much?_

_Lordofthespies: yep, I remember._

(because he's a louse. A no good louse that takes you for granted)

_Hells-and-bells: Okay! Well, we actually got to spend a lot of time together today. He sent me a text – we never casual text – and I'm not sure how to respond and I'm here staring at it for like an hour, and I_ _have no idea how to respond. Like, damn shit bitch face, I'm not sure which way I want it to go, ya know?_

_Lordofthespies: So you want me to beta your texts?_

_Hells-and-bells:…you know what a beta is?_

_Lordofthespies: a fish. It's a fish._

_Hells-and-bells: Haha, real funny, you suck ass. But yes, essentially I'd like a guy's opinion on what he meant and how to respond._

_Lordofthespies: Sure. What was the text?_

_Hells-and-bells: hold on, let me copy it._

_Hells-and-bells: __**"Well, even if no one else worries, I do. How else am I supposed to know what to do for the show without your constant instructions?"**_

I heard the fork I was using hit the floor, but I didn't feel it slip from my fingers. I couldn't feel anything. Oh. My. God.

_Hells-and-bells: Are you there?_


	4. Meet Henry

Thanks everyone for being so supportive! I'm so thankful you guys have stuck with me. I know I had a comment about "It's Legend" from Sandra. If anyone else was still waiting, I do have a last chapter draft stuck somewhere in my folders. I promise to dig it out! Once again, thanks so much!

* * *

"Geraaaaaallld," I hissed, dealing him a sharp kick to the leg under the table. I did a quick scan of the cafeteria, but she was nowhere to be seen. I felt that even mentioning her name was like summoning Beetlejuice. She'd pop out from under the table and beat the snot out of me. I nervously directed my attention back to Gerald, who, to his credit, was now biting his lip to keep his laughter under control. "This isn't funny!"

"Oh come on, yes it is! Do you not smell the ironic comedy gold oozing from this revelation? Boy meets girl, girl hates boy, boy harbors understandable distaste for the girl," he explained, waving his hand as he spoke. "Boy meets girl online, girl and boy form a thing that's not really a thing online, boy find out girl he harbors distaste for is actually the online girl. Oh no, what will he do? Tune in Friday at 8."

I glared as he gave me an ear to ear grin, looking pretty pleased with himself. I wanted to find some sort of hole I could punch in his explanation, but he was pretty much right. "I'll just….unfollow her and delete my messenger. Now that I know, it feels like I'm spying on her life." I poked at my pizza, sighing heavily.

"No, man, come on! Don't you see what you have going for you here?"

I blinked,confused. "I don't follow."

"Okay, take that play you're helping with."

"Stage Managing."

"Whataever. It's _'My Fair Lady_,' right? So isn't the basic premise of that show that the guy finds a rundown, undesirable girl and grooms her to be better? More likeable? You could do that to Helga! She's asking you dude advice – the dude she wants is you. She doesn't know it's you. You could basically groom her into your idea girl and she'd never know it was you!" He explained, rolling his eyes as if he was shocked that hadn't been my immediate first thought.

"Hey now, no! Henry and Eliza agreed, Eliza knew she was being conditioned. Helga-" quick look around "wouldn't know! That'd be wrong."

"Oh come on Arnold, how? She's asking the guy she knows online for advice for a guy she knows offline. In your case, it happens to be the same guy. She's knowingly asking for advice. She's agreeing. 'Cause she liiiikes you," he teased, shoving a forkful of potatoes in his mouth and trying to not look smug. Which on that end, he was failing horribly. He couldn't help but look so full of himself.

But I could see his point, as much as I didn't want to. The whole idea was making my stomach queasy. Sure Hells – I mean Helga- was asking me guy advice. And true, who knew what I liked in a girl more than myself? But still, it was wrong! "Oh come on, if she found out, she would murder me. I'd be part of the mystery meat and nobody would even notice," I rebutted, pushing my tray away as I envisioned the image of me sitting in a blobby pile of gravy. "it's…it's not moral!"

Gerald rolled his eyes at me once more before leaning on his elbows and giving me a serious look. "Arnold, seriously, how would she find out? You never would have found out if not the for the text. As long as you don't mention any of the online stuff, you're golden. It's not like you guys actually talk about that?"

"No,but-"

"Come on,man! Most guys would kill for this. Think of the possibilities. Think about it."

* * *

I didn't want to think about it anymore today. My head was spinning like a cyclone and I was still no closer to an answer. I knew what I should do, but that didn't stop how enticing the other option had become under Gerald's constant spiel. I glanced up from my notepad to find Helga sitting beside me vigorously smacking on her gum. I'd been hearing the pop in intervals. See, if I followed Gerald's advice, I could easily just comment that guys don't like smacking gum, and I wouldn't have to hear it. I could tell her braids were cute, and for all I knew she would start sporting braids. I could say bringing guys hamburgers was a great way- could I get her to give me food?

"Are you even listening to me? Hel-lo Football Head, wake up. It's time to start," she said, pushing me in the arm before heading onstage to address all the call-back kids. Maybe I could casually mention guys don't like to be called Football head.

I shook my head to try and clear that train of thinking one more. It was so weird watching her now, now that I knew so much about her I hadn't know before – well, at least not as openly. It was like I had suddenly read her diary, and they were like two different entities battling in my head. This was so confusing. I groaned as I slid down in the seat, grateful for the distraction once more. Callbacks went much quicker, and since we'd already established most of the cast the previous day, we departed early. I had the official cast list down in my backpack, ready to be typed and emailed. Fun stuff.

"See you on Monday Footballhead," I heard Helga muttered as she collided her shoulder with mine before heading out the door. I rubbed my shoulder, wincing. Also remember to tell her that I don't like being smashed in the shoulder. Ouch.

As I opened the door to the boarding house, the smell of food hit me like a wall. Not eating at lunch had taken its toll and I could feel my mouth watering. I quickly went and gathered my plate from my grandma (so lucky she saves me plates) and took my stairs two at a time. I quickly flipped on the tv before setting in at my computer desk, shoveling a wad of greenbeans into my mouth. Oh dear sweet heavens.

I started my computer back up, quickly pulling up my email. If I went quick-

_Hells-and-bells: Hey,what happened last night? You were supposed to advise, and here I am – advised less?_

I gulped, trying not to choke as I quickly sifted through the options. Option a)say the power went out. She won't know. Option B) Explain that you know who she is. Nip it in the bud. Option C)Ignore it. Or, Option D) Gerald's plan. Play cool, and advise in my best interest. I took a deep breath, fingers hovering. Oh, what the heck.

_Lordofthespies: Sorry, had some computer troubles. Back online. How'd it go?_

_Hells-and-bells: um, it didn't. I never responded and I was too nervous to say anything today._

Dangit, this was so weird. How was I to know she was nervous? I just thought she was really focused and was enjoying her gum. I groaned, trying to not let my knowledge of the day cloud the…non-knowledge online me…didn't…have?

_Lordofthespies: Sorry… you could maybe just text back? Something simple. Maybe just a thanks? Thank yous are really appreciated._

_Hells-and-bells: Seriously? A thank you? That's what you'd want?_

_Lordofthespies: Well, yeah. It's nice to know your efforts are being appreciated. _

A few moments later I felt my phone buzz in pocket. I hesitated, unsure over whether or not I should check it. If it was a text from Helga thanking me, then it was officially confirmed-no just saying it was a coincidence. If it wasn't from her, well, then I don't know what that meant. I just knew the one flip side. I took a deep breath, slowly unlocking my phone screen. Text. Helga. I could feel my heart speed up, nervousness manifesting in sweating fingers. Why was I so nervous? Because I knew this was wrong? Because officially confirming the Helga theory inadvertently meant I had some sort of thing for Helga?

I opened it, skimming the message quickly. "_Hey, sorry for the late response. I wasn't sure what to say yesterday, but I guess a thank you is what I meant. So, yeah, thanks for the text."_

I allowed myself a glance at the computer screen, but she hadn't sent another message. It had just effectively done my first advice test, and in real time.

I haphazardly sifted through icons until I got to skype, quickly dialing Gerald since his icon showed he was online. He didn't answer the first call, but he answered my second.

"Dude, what's up?"

"She did it!"

"Who did what?" He asked, confused.

"Helga!" I blurted, quickly shoving my phone at the camera for proof. "When she messaged me about the text thing, I suggested she say thank you. Five seconds later, I have a text from Helga thanking me!"

"So it's official… You can totally get her to do whatever you want her to do to win you over."

"But….who says I wanna be wooed over by Helga Pataki?" I retorted, looking down.

"Oh shut up,you were already wooed by her online persona. You're already halfway there. And if that doesn't work, at least she'll be tolerable."

"I don't think I can do this," I wailed. "it's making me nervous! I feel like a double agent. "

"So you're not gonna text back?"

"Well…I should say welcome," I muttered, poking at my macaroni.

"You're already in too deep, you have gravy on your face."


	5. Just you wait

Hi guys! Sorry for choppy update schedule...Once summer sets in,I will be able to actually have more free time... Also, this is a bit of a slowish chapter, which i'm sorry about. Just wanted to finish setting the scene so we can get into the actually fun stuff... or not fun. Hmm. Anyway, thanks everyone for reading! :D

* * *

The more I thought it over, the more disgusting the whole idea seemed to become. I groaned as I rolled over to face the wall, kicking the covers down to the foot of the bed. Thinking about things late at night did nothing but exasperate the problem in my head. There was no way from me to pretend that what I was even_ considering _was, well, just downright low. How would I feel if this was reversed? How would I feel if Helga was reading all my personal thoughts on my blog and using me to turn me into something I wasn't?

"But I'm not, right? She's already posted all this stuff online, which means she obviously expects people to read it!" I said out loud, the words sounding loud in my quiet room.

But it was meant for people that didn't know her-otherwise she would have posted her name, and maybe even a picture and told everyone, "Hi! I'm Helga G. Pataki and this blog is about my life and Arnold Shortman, who is a jerk for even considering doing this to me!"

I groaned once, pushing myself from the bed and wrangling myself into a pair of sweatpants and a battered green sleeveless shirt I used for baseball practice. It was barely hanging on, but it was comfortable. I needed things to be comfortable. My jacket was on the couch, and after lacing up my shoes, I took the steps two at a time and bounded down the stairs, glancing at the clock that read 3 a.m. with a glaring certainty as if to ask, 'Where are you going Arnold?' I shook my head, slipping out the door and grabbing my keys from the holding nearby.

The air outside was still chilly, as early February tends to be. I took a moment to shake into my jacket before heading off down the sidewalk at a brisk pace. I wasn't sure where I was going, but anything seemed better than my room. There wasn't enough there to be distracting, leaving too much free time to ponder what a crappy person I was. I brushed my hair from my eyes, making a mental note that it was gonna need a cut once the warm weather began to creep in.

I walked mostly in aimless squares for a bit, finally decided to duck into a small 24 hour convenient store and purchase a large cup of watery hot cocoa. It certainly wasn't the most decadent choice, but there was a certain warmth that come from things that were nostalgic. I slid my money onto the counter and had a quick conversation consisting of just nods and waves with young man at the desk before heading back out. I wrapped my fingers around the cup, enjoying the warmth it brought to my mostly chilled fingers. Taking a sip felt even better. Liquid chocolate is definitely about a number 2 on the comfort scale.

I found myself nearing the park, and I decided to go ahead and follow the path inside, keeping an eye an out for the bench I knew was nearby. It didn't take long to spot it, and I realized it wasn't vacant. I could hear the faint sounds of little gasps that accompanied crying. Uh oh. I probably should have left whoever it was to cry in private, but another part of me nagged that maybe someone was hurt and I should definitely check. One sip more before making the resolve to keep going, and I began to make out the form as I got closer, the soft glow from the scattered lights reflecting off familiar blonde hair. I stopped almost immediately, one foot still hovering before the next step. I sent a dark look at the sky, wondering why fate had chosen this exact moment I was trying to focus on anything but Helga. Nonetheless, I reminded myself that if she was upset, I still needed to help her. After all, she was my friend – in a matter of speaking.

"Um, you okay?" I asked gently, stopping as I neared the bench. She wrenched her head out of her hands and looked at me with wide, shocked eyes before hastily rubbing her eyes across her arm.

"I'm fine! What the hell are you doing here? Shouldn't you be in bed by now, football head?" she snapped, her voice tripping over the words.

"Shouldn't_ you_ be in bed?" I replied with a sigh, not really in the mood for the resistance. I sat down on the other end of the bench, resting my elbows on my knees as I leaned forward, hands around my cup. "Is everything okay? I heard crying…"

"I wasn't crying!"

I nodded my head at the tears she hadn't managed to wipe off. "So, just leaking then?"

A small laugh escaped as she pressed her palms against her eyes to rub the rest away. "Yeah, exactly."

As I watched her trying to quickly scrub away any evidence of her emotions, I took a deep breath. She was a person, with feelings and problems, and I couldn't allow myself to willing become another one. She was human. She was Helga, but still human. Mostly. I looked down at the cup in my hands before extending out to her. "I have found that hot cocoa can be rather comforting in times of distress," I offered. "There's maybe about a little over a half left in it. You can have it, if you like. It's still really warm and I promise I don't have cooties," I added, hoping the touch of humor might cheer her up.

She looked over and eyed the cup, then my face. "Well what were you trying to run away from, then?"

I blinked, the immediate response of 'you' getting caught in my throat. "Girl problems," I responded instead, wanting to still be truthful without hurting her feelings. "I think… I almost let myself do something really, really stupid," I muttered, pulling my hand away from the cup as her fingers swapped placed with mine.

She eyed me curiously from behind hair that had escaped from one of the messiest braids I had seen in existence. "Oh really? Like how stupid?" she asked, resting her chin on the lip of the cup.

I wanted to laugh at the absurdity of this conversation. "Okay, so, hypothetically. Let's say you found out a way to make someone do almost exactly what you wanted them to do. Well,not make,they'd be doing it willingly. But they wouldn't know you were doing it. Would you?" I realized I had a death grip on my sweatpants, and quickly released them.

"So, if I had the opportunity to manipulate someone into doing what I wanted with almost no repercussions? Basically?"

"Yeah…"

"What's my relationship to this person?"

"Um…" I peeked over. "It's just a very complicated one."

"Hmm… it depends, I guess. If it was a close friend, probably not. I'm pretty open, I'd just talk to them face to face. But, if it was someone I felt needed an extra push in the right direction, I'd be lying if I said I wouldn't take a tiny test spin with that." She grinned as she sipped cocoa. "I mean, if you're not forcing anything on the person. They are voluntarily going to do it. Why do you ask?"

"Ah…I was just… breaking down the basic plot of the play. Wondering if you'd do something like that."

"Oh!" She nodded, understanding. "Well in the case of Henry and Eliza, I think it's different. She knows what he's doing on their working on it together. If he was pulling strings behind the scenes, I think she'd despise him. She'd orchestrate his death, all prim and proper." She took another sip of the cup, giving it a now shake to prove it's emptiness. She stood, tossing it into a nearby trashcan.

The whole conversation had left me with a chill, and I stood up as well, doing a jump to get my blood moving. "So you okay? You wanna talk about why you were upset?"

"Because sometimes things just don't work out," she said after a moment, tugging gently at the loose hair around her face. "But such is life. See at practice on Friday, Football head." She waved, starting to walk off. She paused suddenly and spun back around as she added, "Oh. And, Thanks. Thank you for the cocoa…and for caring, I guess." She then took off at a sprint, and I could make out her form as she meshed into the darkness.

I grinned. She had remembered to say thank you.

Not sleeping was a bad idea,which I discovered the next morning as fumbled with the lock as I tried to not yawn. I almost choked on it as a heavy hand slapped my shoulder.

"Morning,Romeo," Gerald teased from beside me as effortlessly spun his lock.

My brain had just managed to get mine undone, and I looked at him in confusion as I sifted through my books. "Excuse me?"

"Oh come on. So you and Helga had a 3 a.m. park rendezvous complete with hot cocoa?"

I blinked again, confused. I hadn't sent him anything, had I? Just gone home and gone to bed. "Huh?"

"There was a blog update. Surprised you didn't check it. After all, you were a religious follower."

I felt my cheeks grow hot, hiding my face behind the locker door. "It wasn't anything like that," I grumbled, feeling embarrassed. I hadn't realized she would write about it. Not that anyone but Gerald knew the truth of it, but the idea that people were reading stories about me made me uncomfortable.

"Then what was it like?" he asked innocently. "You send her an instant message to go wait at the park, hmmm?"

"I decided I don't want to go through with this," I replied, shrugging my backpack back over my shoulder. "It's wrong. I can't do it. It's a double life."

"I know, which is why I have so graciously decided to take over your online persona and play internet you. I can give instructions and hints, and you'll just reap the benefits. This way, you really have no idea what's being said. You have no knowledge of what I'm doing. If things go wrong, I'll take the blame, because seriously? What do I lose from Helga hating me? And if this does work out, you and her can be a little something-something."

I pushed him away as he began to make exaggerated kissing faces beside me, but I had to admit this idea seemed,well, more something I could get onboard with. If Gerald was giving her the information, then it was just as if she was asking him real life. That made so much more sense. I nodded. "Yeah, okay, I can see how that could work," I heard myself saying, ending it with a yawn.

"When do you see her again?"

"Friday? We have a rehearsal."

He nodded, and we both went to our desks as the bell began to ring. In my lightheaded state, I wasn't sure if the decision I had just made was really good or something really stupid. Either way, come Friday, I would have to deal with repercussions. And even Helga had said she do it too, right? I also felt like there was something else she had said, too, but I couldn't quite put my finger on it just yet.


	6. On the Street Where You Live

I'm having fun writing and trying to channel my clueless, somewhat over eager teenage 's been fun. Though a bit weird, as I try to and set up all my conflicting subplots. Sorry if this story is a bit below par right now, but I'm getting there slowly. And as always, thanks for reading! You guys are awesome!

* * *

The only thing keeping me from a long weekend hunkering down in my bedroom eating chips and yahoo as I binged on video games was the agonizing rehearsal set to start in thirty minutes. I really should be inside by now, helping Helga with whatever stage manager duties I was supposed to be doing. I don't know. But the idea of her waiting for me on the other side of the door was a daunting idea, and I help back, pacing by the door as I chewed my fingernails down to ragged remains.

See, Gerald had casually reminded me over lunch that I had given him permission to be the forerunner to my online self, making him my accomplice and lead advice giver to Helga. I had no recollection of giving him permission to do this, but he casually reminded me of the exact time and place I had said so. (Wednesday morning at 7:56, outside the Math room, so he says.) The problem here is that Wednesday is a complete blur to me, and when I had asked how he managed to even log into my account, he produced a scrap of paper with my scribbled scrawl on it that dictated my info. He had then shrugged and reminded me that I often used the same password for almost everything, and he would have gotten in anyway.

Which is all fine and dandy that he can log in, but apparently he already _told_ her something to do to commence in the 'wooing' and I have no idea what this means. He could be using this as a means to humiliate her, which is awful, but I can't exactly run in and tell her not to follow advice off the internet without totally blowing the fact that I know a large majority of her secrets. Oh crap. Crap crap crap-

"Hey Arnold! You okay?"

"Daaa hey Eugene!" I squeaked, tensing up and shoving my hands in my pockets. He gave me a worried look, peering behind me to the door.

"You okay? Is the door locked or something?" He quickly jerked his wrist up to glance at his watch. "I'm not late, am I? I can't be late on the first day!"

"No, no, you're fine!" I assured him. "The doors open, I was just… thinking about some show stuff."

"Oh!" he perked up, sighing in relief. "That's good. I was almost worried for a second. I'd hate to do anything to make you guys regret picking me!" he gushed, pushing the door open and holding it for me, giving me no choice but to follow along. "I'm really excited, and I just want to thank you guys so much for considering me! I mean, just giving me the chance!"

"Thank Helga," I said, her name rolling off my tongue with a strange feel. "She really has faith in you."

"She does?" His face lit up at the thought, a smile taking over his face. "Wow."

"Yo football head, I've sent you like four texts since school got out. Do you not know how to check you phone?"

Her voice grated against my ears, my mind trying to shift back to school Helga. I cringed. "My phone is still on silent," I sighed, my hands tightening around my backpack strap. I was just waiting for whatever display Gerald had arranged.

"Well you need to check these things," she shot back as she rolled her eyes, her hands placed firmly on her hips. "I need you to keep up with my attendance for me, and I'm going to need you to let Sheena down into the costume room during read through. We need to go ahead and get an idea of what we have so we can start out fundraising for the rest."

"I don't have to sit through read through?" I asked as I placed my backpack on the floor by one of the seats in the front row. I sat down in the seat near the aisle, briefly glancing up to where she was situation herself to sit on the edge of the stage.

"No,not really. I mean, I already looked over the script yesterday and started blocking notes as well as started a prop list. I just have to get Mr. Simmons to look over all of that. So no, I don't need you for read through."

I guess I really shouldn't complain. At least I'd have something to do that allowed me to move around to pass the time. I shrugged out of my over shirt, figuring might as well go ahead and free my arms from the sleeves before having haul to clothes to wherever they needed to go. I wasn't sure if it'd a load of not, but better safe than sorry. I directed my attention back to Helga, who quickly looked off to the side, her cheeks pink.

"Do I need a key or something?" I asked, looking around to see if Sheena has shown up yet. We still had about fifteen minutes, but still.

"Yeah, it's on the bulletin board in the back, on a thumbtack. It's labelled," she instructed before swinging her legs back and standing on the stage. "Come on," she said with a huff after she noticed I wasn't moving.

"Well I didn't know you meant now," I muttered, grabbing the edge of the stage and hoisting myself up.

"Nice muscles you got there, Arnold," I heard Rhonda tease, and I immediately crossed my arms over my chest as a shield as I followed Helga backstage.

"Oh, just ignore her," she said with a look back at my face. "She just likes to make people uncomfortable, as I'm sure you know."

Talk about pout and kettle, I thought, though I kept it to myself. "I guess so."

"What, you don't want to be called attractive?" she teased in a singsong voice as we approached the board, and I could feel my cheeks starting to grow warm. I was suddenly aware of just the two of us in this back corner, and I could feel my stomach knotting in anticipation of whatever she had in store from Gerald.

"Oh lay off," I replied, attempting to keep my voice light. "It's weird."

"Well some people don't get to have that luxury." She held out the key to me, the key ring between her thumb and forefinger. "Sheena knows where the room is, so she'll show you one she's here. Make sure you get attendance before she leaves."

And with that final instruction, she skirted back around me and back towards the stage without any fuss or show. Strangely, I was a little disappointed at the lack of attitude change toward me, but a small part of my mind reminded me that that line of thinking was rather vain, and that I shouldn't really be expecting anything. After all, she may have told Gerald she didn't want to have anything to do with me after all. I exhaled a breath I hadn't realized I had been holding before shoving the key in my pants pocket following her back onstage. I was about to jump back down and take my seat as Sheena darted over and held out a clipboard. "Here, this has the attendance chart. Sorry, but I don't want to see her jump on you over it."

I grinned appreciatively. "Thanks, really."

She waved a hand at me, shaking her head. "Don't mention it. After you check everyone off and get every gets a script, I'll show you the costume room."

My grin faltered. "Wait, I have to check out scripts? How does that work?"

"Oh, it's super easy. Did Helga not tell you?" We both looked over to find Helga chewing out a freshman for showing up with just two minutes to spare.

"I think she got distracted," I said with a shrug.

"Oh. Well I'm sure Mr. Simmons will take care of most of it, since it does involve finances, so to speak. He'll help you!" She pointed to where he was just not taking a seat with a large box sitting beside him. I nodded thanks before heading over to where he was, settling down in the seat beside him.

It didn't take long before the scripts were handed out, attendance was taken, and Helga had everyone seated and starting their read through. I quickly sneaked out with Sheena (well, not technically sneaking) and followed her down a small hall to the costume room.

"Mainly I just want to grab any sort of period pieces that might work, and we'll go ahead and stash them in dressing rooms. I can alter them later, after doing fittings and getting the budget together," she explained as I handed over the key. She pushed the door open and clicked on a light, illuminating rows and rows of costumes. My mouth dropped.

"Where did all this come from?" I inquired, poking at a row of poufy dresses.

"Mostly donations and some purchased for specific shows with fundraising. But definitely most come from donations."

I simply nodded, my arms out and poised to be a human clothes rack as she began to pile things in my arms.

"So, you enjoying drama so far?"

"Well, from the short amount of time I've been here, it's been…interesting," I admitted, blowing a tuft of hair from my forehead. "Is it weird of me to ask how Helga's the senior director?"

Sheena laughed as she sifted through the racks. "Well, she's a tough cookie, that's for sure. But she's really dedicated to whatever she decides to do. I've been working on the costumes since I was a freshman, and Helga's been here since I was. She usually does stagehand stuff. I think she's secretly a closet romantic, and most musicals are romances. I've seen her backstage sometimes, humming along with a dreamy look. I think she's mushy, and she likes the stories. It's basically being able to still play pretend and no one can really make fun of you for it. Well, I mean they can, but you know what I mean," she babbled, continuing to load me up to it felt like my arms were going to snap under the pressure of all the fabric.

We headed backstage to the dressing rooms and I heaved a sigh of relief as she began to unload me.

"So one more question about Helga." I tried to act nonchalant as I formulated my question. I sort of had a good idea on the answer, but wanted another perspective. "You say you think she does this because of the whole play pretend thing. But do the other guys, well, do they actually include her? Or is she sort of doing this as a loner?"

Sheena seemed to think it over as she finished hanging up outfits. "Now that you mention it, not really. She's really off putting to underclassmen, so most don't really try to make friends with her. And most of the seniors obviously went to school with her and just know how she is. So, no. I think she's just sort of here on her own." She shrugged, handing the key back to me. "I'm going to listen to the rest of the read through. You coming?"

I nodded. "Yeah, be out in a sec." I turned back to the outfits behind me, and as I allowed my brain to actually let the writings of internet Helga mingle into the Helga that had been a little snappy with me earlier, and idea started to form in my mind. A new plan, so to speak. I quickly hug the key back up on the bulletin board before slipping out to take a seat out front.

As rehearsal ended and everyone began to head out, I exhaled a sigh of relief. Finally. The weekend, which meant freedom. Also chores, but mostly freedom. I gathered up my backpack, slinging it over my arm with a grunt.

"Don't hurt yourself, big guy."

"Trust me, books are the least of my worries," I laughed, turning to give Helga a smile. She looked confused for a moment, but gave a confused smile in response.

"Okay, but why are we smiling?"

"Because there's a bright side to everything," I affirmed.

"You're being kinda weird," she responded, giving me a worried look as she gathered up her own bags.

"Naah, not really. Hey, see you on Monday?"

Her face looked like it was trying to register whether the world had been tipped over and she'd missed the memo. "Of course, it's the first day of blocking. You have to be here. So yeah, I'll see you around?" It was obviously meant as a statement, but her voice had the lilt of a question as she adjusted her jacket.

"Are you walking home?" I pushed the door open for her, and she slipped under the arch of my arm, checking to make sure the door locked as it slammed behind us.

"I was thinking I'd fly home, but weathers just not wanting to be forgiving," she teased, fishing a tattered beanie from her bag and tugging it down over her hair. "Aren't you cold?" She asked, taking in my bare arms.

I held them out, then shrugged. "Eh, not so much. Not right now anyway."

She shrugged, starting to head down the sidewalk. I took a few big steps to close the gap, then slowed myself to keep pace. She stopped as abruptly as I had started. "Okay, what's up with you today? You just seem really clingy for no reason." She pursed her lips, scanning my face intently.

"Sorry," I stammered, "I just thought you'd like a walk home."

She took a step forward hesitantly, then nodded. "Okay, but it still stands that you're kind of freaking me out."

"Let it stand that I have taken that into consideration, and it's fully noted." I adjusted my bag, and we walked in silence down the sidewalk. The formulation of my new plan was going to need a little tweaking, I told myself. Just trying to become instant friends in real life wasn't going to work as smoothly as I thought. Mainly because she didn't have this built on the internet basis I had. Grah, this was confusing.

But just maybe this didn't have to be about things working just for me. (not that they were, she could always choose to reject his advice) But I could use this as a way to do a good deed type thing. I already knew lots of her interests and likes and dislikes. I could use that information to actually do nice things for her. And maybe that might help her loosen up a bit, not be so tense.

I blinked, surprised that we'd already reached her house.

"Thanks for the walk, I think," she laughed, heading up the stairs.

"Not a problem," I said, shrugging.

"Oh, um, and hey. I meant to ask you earlier, but totally forgot. Do you want this?" She dug around in her bag and produced a somewhat bent, but new sketchbook." I blinked. "I know you like to draw, and I figured you could, you know, use it to work on set design. Nothing fancy smancy, just stuff for the show."

"For the show?" I clarified, and her cheeks tinted pink as she brandished it once more.

"Totally. I just…didn't need it."

"Well then, yeah. Thanks," I said, awkwardly accepting it. She disappeared into the front door a moment later, leaving me turning the sketchbook over in my hands. Okay, so the firs implementation of his advice had been to give me a gift then?

So I guess a gift warranted a gift in return, then.


	7. Wouldn't it be Loverly

I kept getting interrupted as I tried to write this over the course of the month. I feel like it's not much to offer up after so long, but, as always, thanks for sticking with me! My sad excuse of 'it was going to be longer' still rings true, but I wanted to go ahead and get something up. So see you soon with more. (I hope)

* * *

I began to feel the idiocy of my idea sinking in now that I was actually standing in front of the stoop of Helga's house. When the idea of stopping by to surprise her and ask to hang out had seemed like an A+ chick-flick movie plot that she might like (as a romantic, according to Sheena), it seemed to fall really flat as I actually started to think all the repercussions into consideration. What if she already had plans? I was here because Gerald had gotten roped into errands with his mom and Timberly. For all I knew, Helga was getting ready for a date, even. Or who was to say she even wanted to see me? She could just as easily slam the door in my face without a word at all. I had to stop letting this smug idea that she'd drop everything for me dictate my plans. I groaned inwardly, taking a moment to try and reign in the nervous feeling in my stomach. This really was a bad idea.

But, since I was already here (and while I was briefly calm), I plodded up the steps and quickly gave three quick knocks before my nerves crept back in me. There was a moment of scuffled noise and then her father was standing there, the tv remote in his free hand as he looked me over.

"Yeah?" he asked, his voice as gruff as I had remembered from years before.

"Hi Mr. Pataki, I was just wondering if Helga was home?" I inquired, putting a nervous smile without looking like I was deranged.

"OLGA!" I cringed away from his sudden decibel change, just catching myself from covering my years. "Come down!"

"Criminy Bob, what is it?!" I heard her cry back from up the stairs. There was the sound of a door opening and heavy footprints upstairs.

"It's your friend Alfred!" He tacked on, and I sighed, muttering "Arnold" as I had so many times before. He ignored me and walked back toward the living room, leaving the door open. The noise of the tv resumed almost immediately.

Helga was perched on the top of the stairs with a brief look of surprise on her face that quickly shifted into confusion, then to blankness. She was dressed like she was settled in for the night with green plaid flannel pants and an oversized Marvel sleeping shirt.

"Did you need something?" she asked hesitantly as she squared her shoulders and came down the stairs, taking her father's place in front of the door.

"Um, not really. I was just gonna see if you wanted to hang out? But I see you're pretty settled in…"

"What, Geraldo busy tonight?"

I winced. Deserved that. "Yeah,actually," I replied, looking down.

"Hmm." She paused for a moment, and I looked up hopefully. " Well what was it you were wanting to do?" She was still blocking the view into the house, leaving me on the steps. I shoved my hands into my coat pocket. "Movie maybe? Or we go for a walk?"

She seemed to mull it over a moment, tugging at the loose end of a messy braid that was hanging down over her shoulder. "I'm actually about to start a movie, if you're interested?"

"What movie?" I asked curiously, knowing full well I would accept about anything.

"No, the question was are you interested," she tsked, shaking her head. "Yes or no?"

"Yes," I answered confidently, and she stepped to the side to let me step in. I grinned, glad to be freed from the cold as she closed the door behind me. She made her way into the kitchen, heading towards a cabinet near the microwave without any indication of what I was supposed to be doing. After a moment of debate, I followed at a safe distance, leaning on the door frame to the kitchen.

"You like popcorn?" she asked as she tore the plastic wrapping off a bag and adjusted in in the microwave, jamming a few buttons. She turned back to face me, looking less threatening in her pajamas than she did marching around the high school with her boots and scowl.

It took me a moment to register I was supposed to answer her question, so I nodded eagerly. "Yeah. But I like mine extra salty, so I can just do a separate bag since I know you like extra butter." I felt the words slip out before I realized what I had just said. I quickly clamped my mouth shut, hoping she wouldn't pick up on my slip up. Everyone knows that when you stumble on words, you're just supposed to be quiet. Don't draw attention. Right?

She raised her eyebrows at me curiously, but slowly pulled down another of the bags without question. I gave a sigh of relief as she switched out the bags, the smell of popcorn wafting through the kitchen. I would have to much more careful about any slips next time. "You need any help with anything?" I quickly asked, hoping to change the situation.

"If you want to grab some drinks from the fridge," she instructed as she stretched on tiptoes to try to pull two large bowls down from the top of the counter.

"How about I help get these first," I yelped as I saw one of the bowls teeter dangerously with the prodding of her fingertips. I had barely managed to surpass Helga in height when High School started, but it was just enough to be able to safely reach the bowls. She rolled her eyes as me as I placed them on the counter.

"I could have gotten them." He tone was a bit brusque as she nudged me out of the way to empty the two now popped bags into the separate bowls. "Drinks?" she prompted, giving me a sharp look. I took a step back, quickly expanding the distance between us to free myself from physical danger that her face implied.

"Yes ma'am," I muttered with my own small eye roll as I pulled open the fridge door. I grabbed two Yahoos, and waited as she took a moment to squeeze the butter packet onto her bowl.

"Feel free to salt, Arnoldo," she instructed as she tossed the packet away before she gathered up her bowl, nodding to a salt shaker that was resting near the stove.

"Oh, right!" I fumbled, hesitantly putting the bottles on the counter. I hastily ripped open the bag and dumped the bag unceremoniously into the, discarding the now empty bag where I had seen her toss the bucket packet. I gave it a hefty dousing of salt before gathering the drinks and the bowl in my arm precariously. Not a problem.

She had left the door to the bedroom open, but nonetheless I paused before entering and gave a slight cough to get her attention.

"You can sit over the by the bed," she instructed without really looking at me. I noticed she had placed her bowl on the hot pink bedspread, so I settled myself on the floor beside and rested one of the sodas on the nightstand. I took a moment to peer around the room as she worked with sifting through DVDs and getting remotes together. Her room hadn't really changed much over the years, or at least not that I remembered. I'd been here back in fourth grade, then again for a science project in eighth. There was always an overwhelming abundance of pink that seemed to contrast with the occupant, but I knew better than to ask. A younger me once had, and I still had a small scar on my elbow from tripping over the storage tub that had contained the solar system. I warily eyed the nightstand beside me.

"Alright, all set!" Helga proclaimed, her voice excited as she bounded over me to claim the spot on her bed. I tried not to laugh when the overture for "My Fair Lady" began.

"Did you just snort?" I felt the bed shift as she moved to shoot a dirty look at me. "Because you don't have to watch this with me, bucko. You can just as easily go do something else!"

"Inhaled some salt!" I lied, making a show of coughing. "Besides, I've never actually watched it."

"What?!"

I dared a glance up to find her peering at me with wide eyes. "No, Why would I have?"

"Because it's awesome!" she retorted with a snort. "And it's got great music. Not to mention the movie has Audrey Hepburn as Eliza,a role the Julie Andrews originated."

"Cool," I said hesitantly, not sure of the real draw. I knew Julie Andrews by her name, but not much else. Audrey Hepburn I knew was on T-shirts and posters wearing a black dress. I tried to know look as clueless as I felt, so I gave an eager nod.

"Cool? That's it?" she asked incredulously. "Do you even know who they are? You know what, forget that. As Stage Manager to this show, consider this some homework for you."

I laughed loudly. "Since when do I have homework? It's the weekend! I'm off duty till Monday!"

"You're never off duty, that's why I have your number. So you can be at my beck and call. But honestly! It'll help you. You can get a look at costumes we're looking for and ideas for set pieces and props we'll need. I know it's not exactly the same, but you get the point."

I nodded, tossing some of the popcorn in my mouth. "Understandable." And it was. I was a good student, and she was right in that watching the characters as people as opposed to words on a page was different. It was a bit exciting, actually, to think of Eugene and Rhonda as the characters. Helga would occasionally throw out comments to explain the story, or make a note on things she would like for our production should budget allow. I nodded, making mental notes.

I felt my phone buzz in my pocket just as Eliza was dancing around the study with Henry. I wiggled it from my pocket, rubbing salty fingers on my jeans before swiping the screen. It was a message from Gerald.

"_How many dresses can there possibly be? Rescue me." _Attached was a picture of Gerald sitting in an overstuffed chair looking bored with a glimpse of Timberly in the background with her arms laden with dresses.

"_Lol. Sorry, can't. Watching a movie." _I thought about sending a picture back, but one look up at Helga in her pj's mouthing along quickly quelled that idea. He didn't need to know what I was with.

"_Oh really. What?"_

"_Old movies." _I responded cautiously, not wanting to give away any more than I had to.

"_Yeah, cool. Tell Helga hi."_

I felt a chill shiver up my spine. She wouldn't have messaged him. Did she post something? When would she have had time?!I've been right here! Well…on the floor watching Tv, but – my finger hovered over the icon on my phone, and I dared a glance up. She was absentmindedly popping the soggy puffs in her mouth, ignoring me for the moment. I could snoop. I could see what she said about me. I shifted my gaze back down and took a breath to steel my nerves. Then I put my phone on the floor.

It wasn't right to snoop, especially not the same room. Who is to say I won't crack later and read it, I know I'm weak a bit when it comes to ego feeding. But for now, listening to her hum on the bed above me was about as much exposed Helga's as I could take in one sitting right now. After all, if I was going to end up in a post later, might as well not do anything to make myself look bad.

"You okay down there?" I heard her ask curiously.

I tried not to jump like a startled rabbit. "Yep!"

"Nervous?"

"No. Well, yeah. Just know how this ends."

"Yep. She's gonna roast him before too long." I could hear the mischief in her voice.

I gulped.


	8. With a Little Bit of Luck

Hi guys! I'm an awful updater, but work leaves me tired when I get home... which is no excuse. Ugh. Anyway,I hope you enjoy! Also, youtube links included to go with the scene. The song mentioned is linked as well as a dance video that I think fits wells for fun. If you get them to line up enough so the dancing starts with the song(mute the dance video), I think it's a good representation aside from some flips. Enjoy!

watch?v=gs65pSEA-VE -song

watch?v=_0AAPQNKkko - paste

* * *

Should I look?

Don't look, I'm not going to look.

Okay, but maybe just one little peek won't hurt, right? Right. I took a deep breath to steel my nerves as I pulled my laptop across the bed and into my lap. I had learned from Gerald that Helga had indeed posted earlier, thus him texting me in the first place. He said he had considered sending a few prompting messages to tell her to make my night a little more fun, but I had sent a heartfelt message that touched his calloused heart. (Okay, so I just sent a long string of no's). But nonetheless, the night had gone rather well. I had fun, I think she had fun. Did she have fun? I had waited an hour or so after I had left to even debate checking the blog. To see if she had considered posting. If she had, I could just skim, make sure I wasn't hindering her,right? Right.

"If you're going to check it, check it."

I yelped, pushing the laptop away as Gerald invited himself into my room. He surveyed around a bit before taking his custom spot on the couch. "You should, it's great. It's like reading some teen romance novel," he assured me as clicked on the TV, searching through channels.

"Psh, whatever. You're bluffing."

"Why would I bluff? I'm the one supplying the material," he retorted with a shrug as he finally settled on a cartoon. I frowned from my spot on the bed, resolving to reach out and close it.

"Oh yeah, telling her to give me a sketchbook was the epitome of teen romance." I rolled my eyes as I plopped down on my back, sighing. I had tucked the book away on the shelf beside me bed, deciding to save it for special use. Well, more than likely for set design stuff. After all, she had given it to me under the pretense of needing it for the show.

"Well I had to start small," Gerald explained from the couch, where he had settled in to make himself comfortable. "Couldn't very well tell her to jump your bones in the hallway or something. That would be a bit much. However, you going over there to hang out on a Friday night was all you." He looked over at me with a pointed look.

"Well, I figured since you're steering her toward my affections, I might as well respond. No need to be rude about it. Besides, it makes her happy, right?" I dared a glance over to catch him looking at me curiously.

"As I've told you a million times, you're a bold kid Arnold."

* * *

_"T – 6 weeks."_ I sighed as I stared at the phone text once more from my sprawled out position on the stage. Just 6 weeks lefts , which was not that much when taken into account. That left fifteen actual rehearsals before the long week of dress rehearsal. We were already in the first week of February with the looming opening date in the middle of March beating down on me. I pressed the palms of my hands into my eyes, rubbing the sleepiness from them. I had gotten in way over my head, and there was a lot that I had to get done – and for a newcomer, it was overwhelming. The last week of January had slipped away quickly, what with watching the basic blocking going on and helping lug costumes up with Sheena. There was still the matter of finalizing the disbursement of the actual budget we had (which was scant) plus figuring what we had left to make up with fundraising. There were props to getout that we needed to start getting to practice with, plus the looming threat of putting together a set that didn't look like crap. Woodshop was my thing! I was a great builder, so if the only spot where I felt like I could be an asset at the moment was set.

So here I was at eleven on a Friday night sprawled out alone on the boards with flats galore stacked in the wings that I had graciously taken upon myself to take down. Mr. Simmons had given me permission to say late and work, but I was starting to regret not at least keeping Sid or Stinky around to help. Even Helga, just for the company.

I sighed at that idea, rolling over to push myself into a sitting position. Gerald's idea had been in official swing for about two weeks now, and I would be lying to myself if it wasn't still flattering to have her give me snacks now and then. She'd even started just calling me Arnold, which was both strange and a relief all at once.

"Come on, back to work," I instructed myself, pulling my sketchbook back over to me. Mr. Simmons was the actual say so behind what we could make, and Helga was the immediate input. Overall, we had about four actual sets we had to create. Right now just looking at it was giving me a headache. That's it, I was done for the night. Just as I was slamming the book shut, I heard a faint knock at the door at the side of the theatre. Who could that be so late? I stood up, brushing the dust from my pants as I made me down the stairs at the side of the stage. The knock came again, this time a bit more forceful. I hovered by the door before cracking it open.

"Oh!" I breathed in confusion, swinging the door open the rest of the way to find Helga poised at the door with her key now hanging uselessly in the air. "If you had a key, then why'd you knock?"

"If you knew I had a key, why'd you answer? I could have been a murderer!" she sputtered, looking utterly shocked to see me standing there.

"I'm sorry?" I offered up, moving to the side so she could slip inside.

"What're you even still doing here?" she accused, fumbling to collect all the loose hair that was in a tangled windblown mass around her shoulders.

"What're you doing here? And why'd you knock if you thought it was empty?" I shot back, keeping up the barrage of questions. I pushed the door shut and made my way back up to the stage to collect my bag. "Don't worry though, I was about to head out," I explained, trying to make my voice sound less accusatory this time.

"You don't have to!" she blurted suddenly. Something in her voice made me stop putting things away. "I mean, not if you've got work to do," she tacked on with a huff, wrapping her arms around herself as she plopped down heavily in one of the chairs in the front row. I noted her expression looked a little sad.

I sighed heavily, then set my things down back on the stage. "I was just going over set design, if you wanna look over my sketches?" I offered cautiously. She looked up at me from beneath her weathered beanie, then nodded.

"Yeah, that sounds good. We should really get the skeleton at least up soon, so we can start having everyone use the actual entrances," she said as she made her way up the stairs to me. She sat down with her legs crossed, her pink fingernails just peeking out from her sweater sleeves as she pulled my sketchbook over to her. If she noticed it was the one she had given me weeks before, she didn't say anything. "I like this for Henry's home." She pointed to one of my scrawled drawing in the corner. "You do some set research?"

"Way too much, probably." I ran my hand through my hair, giving an awkward laugh. "I just wanted to make sure everything was right, you know?"

"It takes practice." Her tone was confident as she looked over at me, giving a half smile. "But you'll get it to work out. You usually do, Mr. Perfect."

I frowned. "I anything but perfect."

"Oh come on, like you do anything wrong."

"I do lots of stuff wrong." If she only knew. I dropped my gaze back to the sketchbook. "I got most everything down to start working with. I'll try and get that skeleton up next week," I switched the subject abruptly, fumbling with my handful of drawing pencils. Her sudden appearance here had put a bad taste in my mouth as I thought of why she might be here so late at night. "Anyway, I've really got to get going. It's late and I've got chores at the boarding house. You need a walk home?"

"Oh, nah, don't worry about me," she replied, looking a little dejected as she started to chew her thumbnail. "I come here a lot at night."

"Then why'd you knock?" I asked again as I crammed my pencils into my bag, jerking the zipper.

"Habit. Usually I'd come earlier and it was a way to warn the Janitor. I know no one is here at eleven, but still a habit." She pushed herself up and tugged at the hem of her sweater. "If you're going, let me walk you to the door. Make sure it closes."

"No way I'm going to let you stay her alone!" I blurted, fumbling to stand up as well.

"I do it all the time, like I said!" she retorted, eyeing me curiously. "No need to get all butthurt over it."

"I'm not getting butthurt," I scoffed. "I just don't like the idea of you being here alone….at night… You're sure you're not here for any particular reason?" I pressed, knowing it was dangerous territory to do so. "No… outside force pushing you here?"

Helga looked at me like I was crazy. "Nooo? I got bored watching TV, and, as you know, I have an active social life," she muttered sarcastically as she tossed her hair over her shoulder. "I dunno, sometimes it's nice to come here. It's quiet, and I feel…like I'm at peace here. Sometimes...I just come here to get away," she said quietly. I felt a small smile creep over my face at such an honest confession coming from her.

"I guess I can understand that. But still, I'd just feel better knowing I didn't leave you here alone. I'll stay out of your way, I promise." I held my hands up in a show of surrender. "I can work on a few other things while you do whatever it is you do. Just let me know when you're ready to leave?"

After pursing her lips, she nodded. "Okay, fine. I honestly don't have much to do. I just brought my computer to mess around on. I'll more than likely play music and do a little homework if that's cool with you."

"Not a problem!" I replied, waving my hand carelessly. She gave a hesitant smile, but soon rolled her eyes and waved me off.

"Go do whatever is you have to do to stay busy," she shooed me away. I laughed, but none the less made my way backstage towards the prop room. I didn't really know anything else I could pretend to do that would be useful. There was already a tentative yet still expanding prop list on the door, so I made a mental note of a few things on the list before opening the door and flipping on the lights. I had been in this room once before back in ninth grade when I'd been enlisted to help free Eugene. He'd tripped into a series of nets in the corner that had been leftover from _Pirates of Penzance._ It was just as messy as I'd remembered, with shelves upon shelves of junk, for lack of a better word. With a deep breath to set my resolve, I stepped through the door.

I'm not sure exactly how long I was lost amid a sea of teacup and telephones, but I finally emerged with my arms full of various basket and fake foliage as well as a few other odds and end including a cane and misplaced top hat (which managed to sit surprisingly well on my disheveled hair.) I dumped everything on the table we had set up earlier that day during rehearsal.

The sudden realization of silence made me stop, and sneaking suspicion that Helga had left without telling me crept over me. I power walked back toward the stage, about to call out when the slight sound of music caught my ear. I immediately relaxed, but continued mu quiet trek up to the wings to peer out.

Trust me, it's not every day one gets to see Helga twirling across a stage with her hair flying around her. A) because I've never seen her dance, and B) she never has her hair free, at least not in public. I found myself grinning widely, immediately struck with an idea. She was playing the music from her phone, which wasn't loud at all – probably so as not to disturb me. I checked my pocket to make sure my phone was charged before running as quietly as I could to reclaim the top hat and cane I'd dumped a few minutes earlier. If I was sneaky, I could go down the side aisle while it was dark and be up at the light booth in a dash. Which I managed to do – with a stealthy army crawl, I might add. I quickly shimmied up the ladder and heaved myself up into the small wooden booth, fumbling to find the aux cord I knew Sid had left for me during rehearsal. He used it to play music until he'd left, and he'd left it for me to use during my stint. I had for a while, but had to reclaim my phone earlier to do some recharging. I quickly plugged it in, giving the volume knob a quick adjustment before hitting play on Dean Martin's version of "On the Street Where You Live." I couldn't stop myself from doubling over in laughter as Helga gave a loud scream as the music over took the stage. She whirled around swiftly, shielding her eyes as she peered up at the light booth.

"Arnold!? The hell are you doing!"

"Giving you more music to dance to!" I called back, cupping my hands around my mouth.

She gave a quick stomp of her foot before yelling, "Get down here!"

I shrugged, dropping down from the booth with a thud. I adjusted my borrowed hat and did my best imitation of baton twirling one handed with the cane as I made my way down the aisle. Helga was speechless and I pulled myself upon the stage, giving a quick bow.

"What're you doing?" she sputtered incredulously, taking in my props.

I shrugged. "Well you were dancing. I like dancing."

A large laugh escaped her as gave her my best eyebrow waggle. "Dance, how?"

"It's jazzy, so swing works best," I said thoughtfully, purposefully ignoring her actual implication.

"I don't know how to swing dance," she shot back, crossing her arms. "So this is all you."

"I can teach you, obviously. It's really easy, watch!" I planted my feet firmly and "Step forward kick, back step kick," I demonstrated, my arms swinging lazily as I demonstrated. "Your turn."

She eyed me like I was insane but took up the standing position beside me to follow. "You should know this doesn't really go on beat with the song."

"You should know I don't really care and this is just for fun," I retorted. "Now give me your hands."

"What?!"

"Just give me your hands, jeez!" I laughed, holding my hands out. "I'm not gonna swing you off the stage."

She peered at me hands curiously before hesitantly taking them. "Now what?"

"I step you, you step back with same foot. Then reverse? Make sense?"

"No!"

"Like this!" I demonstrated, and she managed to follow me rather well. "See, awesome! I'll show you some more moves!"

"What about when the song ends?" she asked curiously as we continued our front step, back step.

"I have it on loop," I said with a shrug.

"You would," she sighed, but resigned herself to follow my dance moves. I'm not sure how long we jumped around the stage making fools of ourselves, but we managed to get ourselves a little routine down after a while of going at it.

"Okay, okay!" she laughed, pushing her hair back.

"We've made a dance. No mess ups. When the song starts back, let's do this like we have an audience."

I chuckled from beside her, but turned to face our imaginary audience as instructed. "Okay, I'm ready."

The music picked up and we began out dance one more, trying to actually remember what we'd sort of smashed together in our attempt to make something semi coherent. Amidst all the singing and spinning, I took in how much Helga was really concentrating on the dance. When she committed to something, she really committed. She spun out and spun back in gracefully, and I found myself humming along as she looked at me with a curious expression in her eyes. I felt something catch in my throat as I spun her out. I tried to cough to clear whatever had somehow lodged itself there, but as I spun her back in her sneaker caught against the wood and she tumbled into me, causing us both to fall back on the stage. Not long after, the music died out confirming my phone had reached its last amount of charge. That, however, wasn't as pressing as Helga on the stage with me crushing her under with me body weight.

"Oh my God, you're heavy!" she wheezed as I quickly braced myself on forearms before pushing myself up on my knees.

"I'm so, so sorry! Are you okay!" I frantically examined her head and arms, my hands hovering over her awkwardly. I wanted to check for cuts or blood but touching her without permission seemed rude.

"I'm fine," she replied, pushing me away with the hand she wasn't using to hold her head. She sat up slowly, and I reached out hesitantly to prod at her head despite my reservations. "What're you doing?" she asked, narrowing her eyes at me.

"Checking for lumps?" I said sheepishly, cringing.

"Head lumps better be the only lumps you're checking," she tried to joke, keeping still as I checked the other side of her head.

"Nope, lump free… so far," I observed, turning my attention away. I could feel my cheeks burning. "It's getting late, we really should head out."

She didn't protest, and we gathered out various belonging in silence and switched off lights. The walk home went quietly, more than likely due to the fact we suddenly realized how exhausted we both were. Dancing takes a toll on you.

"Have a nice night-er,morning. Sorry for crushing you," I apologized as we arrived at her house. She shrugged as she headed up the stairs to the dark house.

"No big deal."

"I meant to tell you earlier, by the way, your hair looks nice down." The words sort of exploded from my mouth, and I had no idea why they'd chosen now to escape. Must be the fall affecting my head. I forced a laugh.

"Um, thanks," she murmured, fumbling behind her for the door. "I'll see you on Monday?"

"Yeah. You gonna be okay the rest of the ngiht?" Why wasn't I just leaving?

"Yeah…just gonna write a bit. See you." She slipped inside before I could respond.

It took no more than a minute into my walk home what that must mean.

Blogging.

Gerald would read it, and he would know. Then there would be the teasing from him, not to mention the rumors if anyone else happened to find out about the two of us…alone together….at almost one in the morning now. It's not like I could ask her not to write about it – that'd be a dead giveaway. I groaned inwardly. Maybe I could just trust she didn't write everything in her blog. She hadn't written a lot about me before. Okay, so I hadn't given her much to write about till – until I put us in these situations. I groaned.

This wasn't good for either of us – this was mental chaos.


End file.
